Hi Neighbor

The dutch waitress with the cleavage revealing shirt returned to our table with a single glass of a golden liquid none of us had ordered. She leaned over slowly to give anyone interested a show, and placed the glass securely in front of NoCoins. She said in her cute dutch accent: “Since it’s your last night in Amsterdam, this is sort-of typical dutch and compliments of the house.” The man, my friend since the early days of high school, gave her a huge smile and thanked her for her kindness. We ordered some snacks, and sat there doing a combination of reminiscing and deep reflection on human relationships. Viola, the last night in Amsterdam for two of my favorite people.

Part of what keeps me connected to folks like this, and people scattered around the world, is of course blogging. I think most of us know that we are a community here, made up of writers, readers, critics, fans, or simply browsers, who pop-in randomly. Part of the beauty and richness of such a community is that it is completely open to anyone who is interested. You may decide not to comment, but you’re still part of it, you’re a reader and you’re forming opinions in your head, regardless if you share them or not. This creates a unique bond, blog readers and writers, because we know each other without knowing each other, and regardless of if nothing here is true, or not. Beyond that, through posts and comments, arguments and discussions, agreements and disagreements, we form new opinions or re-enforce old ones, collectively – so-to-speak.

Why the hell am I dwelling on this point, you’re wondering? Perhaps because next week I shall meet with an important someone from the Amsterdam School of Cultural Analysis about my forever pending PhD plan. More likely, it’s because I was thinking about Mathemagenic’s paper/post on weblogs like buildings in a city, and communities emerging between the buildings, in the public spaces that aren’t clearly defined.

Keeping with that metaphor, and in the spirit of lameness, I’d like to think of myself sitting on the stoops of my blog, chatting with the neighborhood wiseman Brian, or with the girl-next-door the deconstructionist. And then there are the new neighbors on the block, like WinterofDiscontent or HelpyChalk, who might come over for a barbecue and chat about politics or parenthood. If it was a really good night, professor B and xTx might walk over from their blog-buildings and join us. Later we would all toast to Colin Powell for packing up his white vials of powder, and exiting stage left, along with his pathetic colleagues in Energy, Education, and Commerce. Come to think of it, there would be more bloggers than I can possibly list here hangin out on the front stoops. Still… I can see it now, my own shiny, happy, sim-blog-city.